


Better Than Ice Cream

by Sarah_M



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, First Date, Fluff, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 03:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16846573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_M/pseuds/Sarah_M
Summary: The ‘kid in a candy store’ analogy is an entirely fitting description of his mood right now. Though it has nothing to do with where he is, and everything to do with who he’s with and why he’s here.





	Better Than Ice Cream

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to sharim28 for taking the time to beta this, you're wonderful.

Inside the little Washington DC ice creamery, they study the large variety of flavor choices behind the cold glass display. The smell of freshly baked waffle cones and sticky fudge topping lingers in the air; almost as appealing to his senses as she is. Occasionally his eyes catch hers as they read the labels behind the condensation streaked cabinet. Their shoulders brush together in a way that seems casual but is ever so intentional, leaving them grinning amid the flirtatious atmosphere that surrounds them.  

The ‘kid in a candy store’ analogy is an entirely fitting description of his mood right now. Though it has nothing to do with where he is, and everything to do with who he’s with and why he’s here.  

“Is this okay?” she asks with a playful smile. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?”  

“Well, you haven’t eaten an actual dinner yet. We can go somewhere else if you want to?” 

It’s not that dinner wasn’t on the cards. Her invitation had originally included dinner. It’s just that his meeting with the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs had run way past late, and typically the excuse of needing to leave because ‘you’re peachy keen to have a date with your ex-subordinate’ doesn’t fly.  

So here they are at late o’clock, substituting a dinner date for an ice cream date. Not that he’s complaining. He’s more than satisfied. He’s been yearning for this woman a lot longer than his stomach has been yearning for an evening meal. 

“Carter the fact that you’re taking me out on a date to a place that only serves dessert, tells me that you know me too well.” 

“Exactly how many more times are you planning on reminding me that I asked you?” 

She had propositioned first; cramming in time she didn’t have to find him before her meeting and ask him to dinner. He found the pink blush at her cheeks and shy smile on her lips especially entertaining - as if he could ever turn her down. Honestly, he was going to ask her during her visit, she just beat him to it.  

“Probably a few more before it gets old,” he says nonchalant. “This is your show though. Personally, I’m looking forward to you sweeping me off my feet.”  

“Oh god...” she chuckles and rolls her eyes.  

Gracing her with his best boyish grin, he reaches between them to carefully snag her little finger with his. A soft smile tugs at the corners of her mouth and her eyes light up at the touch; both create a warmth in his chest. Her quick fingers take advantage of the opportunity and entwine their hands together fully. Palms hot against each other's, affectionately stroking and thumbing circles over the skin in reach.  

It’s been a long time since a woman made him feel quite like this. 

“So, what are you having?” 

Turning her attention back to the colorful choices front of them, she sucks in a thoughtful breath. “Umm, vanilla.” 

“Carter there are thirty-two flavors here,” he teases incredulously.  “On a first date you should be trying to impress me - winning me over. If I were you, I’d be ordering something a little more adventurous.” 

“You need me to impress you?” she arches an eyebrow. 

She really doesn’t; he’s currently holding hands with the only woman on the planet that has blown up a sun. 

“Vanilla is just so… _vanilla_. It’s incredibly boring.” 

Shaking her head at him she looks back over her options. “Fine, I’ll have… the citrus sorbet.” 

“Sorbet?” he gives her his best disgusted look. “You know in order to have ice cream, you actually need to pick something that’s _ice cream_.” 

“Okay, okay - the rocky road choc vanilla swirl.”  

He lets out a low whistle. “Wow. That’s quite a choice. Says a lot about you.” 

“Yeah, it says you’ve antagonized me into choosing something completely random.” 

“So you say.” Gesturing with a nod of his head, he gains the attention of the server behind the counter. “Excuse me? We’ll have a rocky road sundae with all the trimmings and I’ll have the same, but with vanilla. To go, thank you.” 

It doesn’t take long to gain a reaction. 

“What! _You’re_ having vanilla?” 

“I like vanilla,” he shrugs, keeping his expression neutral. 

“ _I_ like vanilla.” 

“Then maybe you should have ordered it.” 

“I did.” 

“Nope, you ordered rocky road. I remember.” 

“You’re incredibly frustrating,” she chuckles. 

“She says with a smile,” he mocks.  

Her teeth bite down on her brightening smile but it doesn’t stop her eyes from laughing. It keeps him grinning as he squeezes her hand in his. 

“Don’t worry. We can share.” 

  

The night air is crisp as they wander along the boulevard, spooning their way through cups of whipped cream, fudge and ice cream. The darkness of the hour does nothing to dull her radiance, or diminish the vibrance of her smile. His fingers are itching to be curled around hers again instead of the cold cardboard cup and plastic spoon (should have ordered cones); he has to settle for the sound of her warm laugh instead of her warm hand. That’s distracting in its own right though, drawing his attention to her mouth, as if her tongue peeking out to lick the dessert from her lips isn’t enough.  

“So, what exactly does this flavor say about me?” she asks. 

He has to take a moment to think about his answer, since obviously it doesn’t mean a damn thing. 

“That you’re outdoorsy… and that you’re into classic cars and motorcycles,” he answers seriously with a nod. 

“Because of the road?” 

“And the rock.” 

“I have my suspicions you’re not getting this from the ice cream,” she says dubiously. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he denies. “It says you’re tough too.” 

“Ah, because of the nuts,” she nods along in feigned insightfulness. 

“Now you’re getting it.” 

“And the marshmallows mean?” 

“That one’s easy,” he makes sure to hold her stare, “You’re sweet too.” 

Her flirting smile hasn’t waned the entire time and he’s pouring all his efforts into keep it that way.  

“Does the vanilla really mean you’re boring then?” she smirks around the up-side-down spoon in her mouth as she licks at the cold dessert. 

“Well, there’s a naughty or nice connotation attached to vanilla and chocolate. Which by the way, I see you’ve picked both with the rocky road. But I wouldn’t read much into it. Really it just means that I’m willing to sacrifice the choc-chip cookie dough for the sake of a joke.” 

“Was it worth it?” 

“You’re still smiling, so yeah,” he grins.  

There’s that look. That shy but amorous look she keeps sending his way. He just wants to kiss her. Actually, he wants to do a lot more than kiss her. But right now, he would gladly settle for his lips against hers.  

“Can I try some of yours?” he points his spoon at her ice cream.  

“Sure.” 

“Hold this for me?” He passes her his cup casually and she takes it. “Don’t drop them,” he warns.  

Her brow pinches together, clearly unsure why she would consider letting them go. As soon as she’s distracted by the thought and both her hands are occupied, he cups her cheeks and kisses her swiftly. 

He sweeps his tongue along her bottom lip, nipping at it gently before soothing it again with a slow lick. Then she’s no longer caught off guard, but caught up in the moment; pressing against him, leaning up and kissing him back. The little moan she makes when his tongue slips into her mouth is delightful. 

Her mouth is cold and sweet - tasting of vanilla and chocolate with an alluring hint of glacé cherry. It’s tantalizing mixed with her own unique flavor and she’s in no way encouraging him to stop. His fingers tangle in her hair, pulling her closer, exploring her thoroughly while she’s left standing there holding cups of ice cream in her hands. It would be comical, if kissing her weren’t so arousing. 

The need for air and a sense of public decency becomes necessary and reluctantly they break apart. Her eyes flutter open and she peers up at him from beneath her lashes with hazy eyes. He can’t tell if the usual blue is darker because of the low lighting or something more enticing. 

“I like the rocky road,” he murmurs, letting the words hover over her lips. 

“I could have given you a spoon…” she says softly. 

“I like it better this way.”  

From here on out he’ll take all his ice cream with an extra-large serving of Sam Carter.  

Her gaze flits between his eyes and his mouth; definitely cloudy with desire he’s decided. He couldn’t care less about the ice cream in her hands anymore. In fact, there’s a very big part of him that’s curious to know what it would take to make her drop the damn cups to the pavement. His brain shoots off scenarios at him at a rapid-fire pace - of both the vanilla and chocolate variety. However, they aren’t exactly in the right location to venture to all the places his mind wants to take them. 

“How long are you here for again?” he asks, his voice low while his hands smooth downwards to settle on her denim clad hips. 

“All week,” she replies with a smoky tone that has him wondering where her own imagination is at. 

“We could pace ourselves… lunch, dinner, lunch, dinner-” 

“-Or we could go back to your place and have breakfast in the morning.” 

Perfect. 

“I like your idea better. Lose the ice cream.” 

 

 *** 

 

He’d like to say that their first date has been a whirlwind. A properly eventful evening with adventurous twists and turns, that ultimately end with him pressing her against his entry wall with his tongue in her mouth. Really though, it has been elegant in its simplicity. And it should be. God knows they’ve waited long enough to get here. They skip the complicated now.    

Her hands are gloriously free as he crowds her. One curled at the nape of his neck, the other digging into the muscles of his back over the fabric of his shirt. 

“Coffee?” 

“No,” she stifles a giggle. 

He kisses the corner of her smile and his hands slide beneath her top, stroking at the soft skin at her sides. She squirms against him when his fingers inch too close to the more sensitive places on stomach and she lets out a squeak. Ticklish. Good to know. 

“Water?” He ducks his face into the curve of her neck, breathing in a scent that’s part perfume part her; it's intoxicating. 

“No,” she sighs, running her fingers through his hair.  

“I know, warm milk. Since you’re headed to bed.” 

“Except that we aren’t going to be sleeping yet.” 

“I’m trying to be a good host Carter. Now tell me what I can get for you,” he says gravelly.  

He knows exactly what she wants; he just wants to hear her say it.   

She presses at the center of his chest and pushes him backwards. He relents and braces his palms against the wall either side of her, allowing enough space to watch with fascination as she grasps hemline of her shirt. The fabric gathers, revealing tempting new skin as it’s dragged up and off, finally falling to the floor in the intimate space between them.  

There’s a distinct clench of anticipation in his stomach as his eyes roam her body. He welcomes the sensation, reveling in it freely. 

“I want you,” she drawls. 

His eyes snap to meet hers again. “You said something similar about the sorbet too you know.” 

“Jack...” 

The sound of his name on her lips has his mouth seeking out the flushed skin of her throat. His tongue wanting to taste the place the enticing noise originated from. He trails a wet line lower until he reaches a spot that both makes her breath catch, and will safely be under the collar line of her uniform tomorrow. He nips and sucks, hard enough to leave a little mark that he’ll look for when they eat breakfast in morning.  

“I like you better than ice cream,” he licks at the fresh mark he’s given her.      

Her fingers clutch at his belt buckle in response, deftly undoing it between them. 

“I’m so close to finding another dirty dessert line, but you’re being very distracting,” he chides her, guiding her backwards in the direction of his bedroom. 

“Think you can let it go?” she asks breathily, slinking her arms behind her back to unfasten her bra.  

“Probably. You’re very persuasive.” 

The part of his brain that’s required for quips quickly shuts off, and for the next little while he is no longer focused on making her laugh. 

 

 *** 

 

Wrapped in sheets that were clean but now smell of them both, sleep threatens to pull them away.  She’s as relaxed and satiated in his arms as he is, but he’s not ready to succumb to unconsciousness yet. Her eyes are heavy and tired, slipping closed as his fingertips trace patterns along the length of her arm. Occasionally snaking beneath the covers to trail over the dip of her hip or the curve of her back. Everything about _them_ feels right and natural and easy. Which is pretty ironic since it’s seemed too damn hard for so damn long.  

“Falling asleep on me Carter?” 

“Well as it turns out, you are far more effective than a glass of warm milk,” she replies sleepily.  

“I always suspected.”   

He presses a lazy kiss to her bare shoulder and then a final one to her lips. Lightly his fingers continue their journey in the dark, re-mapping skin that he’s thoroughly explored. Eventually her breathing slows, becoming even and deep against him. She relaxes further into him and the downy pillows as she inevitably surrenders to her body’s demands. 

“You are like my personal brand of sexy marshmallow; you’re soft and pink and taste good,” he says into the darkness of the room. 

She groans, pulled from the edge of slumber to huff out a laugh. 

“I sure hope you haven’t been searching for that dirty joke this whole time.” 

“Not the whole time...” 

“Are you happy now?” 

“Very,” he grins, satisfied. 

With her in arms, he really is. 

 


End file.
